


Cat Sitter

by Shoulder_Devil



Series: Meow Mix [5]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Pet the kitty!, Very Mild Blood, kitty!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 20:24:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14292753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shoulder_Devil/pseuds/Shoulder_Devil
Summary: Michael calls in a favor with the ArchivistJon cat sits for a kittenCatnip happens





	Cat Sitter

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place sometime before episode 99 - Dust to Dust

“Mrrooew?”

“Oh, are you hungry, Admiral?” Jon looked down to the cat threading between his legs as he made his way toward the kitchen. The sleek, black cat sat on his haunches to paw at his leg instantly. “It is a little early but I suppose I can feed you. Just don’t tell Georgie, she prefers to keep you on schedule.”

The Admiral’s meowing became more insistent as Jon pulled the bag of kibble from its place on the fridge. Purring loudly, he rubbed up against Jon as the food poured into the ceramic bowl. “There you go, enjoy your dinner.” He gave the Admiral a quick scratch behind the ears.

Turning back from returning the food to its rightful location, (seriously Georgie, how hard is it to put something away after you use it) Jon was startled to see an invader in the kitchen. From the look of things the Admiral was just as surprised by the small calico, barely a few months old, gorging itself on his food.

“What in the…” Jon scooped up the furry intruder and looked around the kitchen trying to find its point of entry. He lifted the tail and flashed a quick glance to the animal’s backside-- her point of entry. “Where did you come from, little one?”

“Mew!”

“That’s not particularly helpful,” he said, tilting his head to the side as he addressed the kitten.

He scanned the kitchen and proceed to the living room but saw no open windows that might allow an intrepid feline entry to Georgie’s flat. The kitten was starting to squirm so Jon tucked her in the crook of his right arm and started scratching behind her ears.

Turning down the hallway, he nearly dropped the kitten in shock. At the end of the corridor was a door that shouldn’t be there. Though something was different from Michael’s doors Jon had encountered before. As he noticed the cat flap cut into the bottom of the pale, yellow door, he became suddenly afraid of the now purring kitten cradled in his arm.

Carefully, so as not to upset her, Jon lowered her to the ground. As soon as she was released, she ran back to the kitchen. He heard a noise of displeasure from the Admiral but the sounds of crunching kibble soon resumed. Jon had hoped that when faced with the door the cat would return from where it came.

 _No, I suppose that wouldn’t be my luck_.

Jon made another pass through the flat, this time with Michael in mind. He paid particular attention to any reflective surfaces in his efforts to locate the Distortion. Eventually he ended up in front of the door again, eyeing it warily.

“Michael?” he called out, exasperated. “What do you want this time? I found your cat, she’s in the kitchen if you want her back.”

There was no response.

Jon heaved a weary sigh and took a step forward. He very much did not want to do this. Drawing in another deep breath to work up the nerve, Jon raised his hand in a fist.

“Hello, Archivist.”

Michael’s voice was loud, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Jon startled and nearly fell. “Oh for the--” He spun to face the creature masquerading as a person. “Michael, what do you want _this_ time?”

Blond hair fell into its eyes as it bounced slightly with laughter, grin spread unnaturally wide. “Oh, Archivist, I come merely to ask a _favor_ … and a small one at that. Just a trifling matter.”

Suspicion colored the Archivist’s features as he regarded Michael. More accurately, as he regarded the space around Michael. Jon knew better than to look directly at the Distortion for any length of time, a lesson he had learned the hard way. Migraines can be powerful teachers. “I take it this has something to do with the kitten that showed up just now?”

“Mmmm, yesss. Very _perceptive,_ Archivist! You’re observational skills do seem to be improving.”

“Not being in immediate mortal peril does wonders for higher reasoning and cognitive prowess,” the Archivist retorted dryly, crossing his arms.

Michael openly inspected the sharp tips of its hands before returning its gleaming eyes to Jon, the threat clear. “Perhaps we shall test you under... pressure some other time. For now, I have a different task in mind for you.”

Jon swallowed thickly and decided to dial back his previous level of sass. “Right,” he cleared his throat, “you were saying?”

“Yeeessss.” The drawn out sound of the word sent a shiver up Jon’s spine. “This one, this… Callie, I believe she is now called, is quite the adventurous one. I like her, however, she has been… shall we say _interfering_ with my meals of late.” Michael tapped a long finger on its lip in thought. “Perhaps, _intervening_ is a better word. Regardless, you will be caring for her for the time being.”

Jon was flabbergasted. “You want me to what? Cat sit for you?”

“I would strongly advise against sitting on little Callie. It would not go well,” Michael twitched half his mouth into a parody of a friendly smile, “for you.”

“That’s not-- Nevermind.” Jon gathered himself, “How long will this arrangement last?”

“Time… exists.”

“Yes?”  

Realizing an answer wasn’t going to be forthcoming, Jon tried again. “How long will Callie be here? This isn’t even my house, I have someone else to consider.”

Michael laughed, a swirling cacophony ending with a gentle sigh. “It is not up to you, Archivist. She will reside here for a time. You will watch over her, keep her out of trouble… if you can. I would simply like to enjoy a meal in peace. She is rather _adept_ at opening doors.”

“I, uh, I see.”

“You do not, but this will do.” Michael made eye contact with the Archivist briefly before Jon had to look to one side, blinking away the sparks forming at the edge of his vision.

Callie tottered around the corner from the kitchen, tail held high. She headbutted Michael in the ankle or perhaps its knee. Michael folded its warped frame to reach down and scratch the calico kitten along her jaw. It stroked her several times, making small cooing noises before launching into its own imitation of a cat’s purr that caused Jon to clutch his ears in pain. Michael spared a glance to the Archivist but did not cease its vocalizations as it scooped up the kitten.

The hands on his ears did nothing to block out Michael’s purring though he held them there anyway. Jon screwed his eyes shut as the pressure in his head continued to build. “Michael, please,” he forced through gritted teeth with a tongue that tasted blood in the back of his mouth, “ _stop!_ ”

The sudden silence was such a shock that Jon wondered briefly if he had been struck deaf. A tiny kitten’s voice told him he still had use of that particular facility. He expected to see a gloating Michael standing before him when he opened his eyes but saw nothing out of the ordinary in Georgie’s flat, save a wiry calico kitten.

“Mew!”

“Um?” Jon blinked a few times and shook his head. He still tasted blood in his mouth but the pressure in his head and the pain in his ears were fading. “Well, that…” he sighed, “That wasn’t as bad as it could have been, I suppose.”

Callie rubbed her face on Jon’s leg and began to purr. Thankfully, her voice seemed to operate along normal parameters. He looked back down the hall to see a blank wall where Michael’s door had once stood. It was gone, at least for now.

 

* * *

 

 

Jon set Callie up with her own food and water bowls in the kitchen. The Admiral was not pleased to have shared his dinner but once Jon had refilled his food bowl, he seemed to relax. The two cats ate from their respective bowls in relative peace.

The Admiral was initially suspicious of his new roommate but seemed to tolerate her with only mild complaint. After a few tense moments of low growls and arched backs, they both seemed to calm down. The Admiral was curled up and grooming the younger cat by the hour’s end.

Georgie was not pleased when she got home. Not that she didn’t like Callie, on the contrary, she fell immediately in love with the tiny calico, declaring her, “the pwettiest widdle kiddy in the whowe wide wowld.”

Georgie’s complaint was a more practical one. “You need to quarantine new cats, Jon! I seriously doubt this Michael fellow has ever taken her to see a vet. What if she has worms?”

Suddenly very pale, Jon began clutching at his arms and backing away from the kitten Georgie was petting. “W-w-worms? The cat could h-have worms?”

Georgie’s eyes widened in understanding. She replied with a soothing voice. “Not those kinds of worms, Jon. The normal kind that outdoor cats and dogs can get.”

“Oh!” Jon breathed a sigh of relief, “Of course, I just--”

“It’s fine. We’ll keep Callie away from the Admiral in your room until we can get her checked out by a vet. Okay?”

“That seems reasonable,” Jon agreed.

Georgie had Jon set up food bowls and a litter box in the spare room. He was flicking a cat toy around the room for Callie to chase when Georgie popped her head in. “I’ve got an appointment for tomorrow morning. How long did you say you had to keep an eye on her?”

“I didn’t, but at least until Michael has had a chance to ‘enjoy a good meal’.” He winced at the thought of someone being trapped, alone, and stalked by a nightmare. “At least a few days, maybe as long as a few weeks. I don't know. I’m so sorry, Georgie. I didn’t mean to bring this down on you.”

“It’s fine, Jon. I seem to be in the habit of taking in strays.” She sat on the bed next to him, giving his shoulder an affectionate shove. “Besides, this isn’t nearly as bad as some of the other things that have followed you home.”

“Which ones?” Jon asked, twitching the toy. Callie pounced after it, capturing the brightly feathered lure in her paws.

Georgie looked up at the ceiling and let out a long breath. “Well, all of them, I guess.”

“I’ll make an effort to only be stalked by cats from now on,” he said with a smile.

“Be careful what you wish for. There are some big cats in the world. But not you!” Georgie directed her attention to the fuzz ball currently chewing on the toy. “You’re just a widdle thing! Come here, I want to have a closer look at you!”

She bent down and grabbed the kitten by the scruff and deposited Callie in her lap. There was a tiny mew of protest but it was quickly replaced by purring as Georgie worked her fingers under the kitten’s jaw and behind her ears. “I’ve always loved calicos. Don’t get me wrong, the Admiral is a very handsome cat but--heh ‘cat butt’, but calicos are so pretty.” Georgie continued stroking along Callie’s back, occasionally stopping to scratch at the base of her tail.

“Hey Jon, did you notice this?” She indicated the swirling interplay between orange, black, and white along Callie’s side. “It almost forms a spiral.”

Looking where Georgie indicated, Jon was able to see where the cat’s markings seemed to wrap around themselves. It wasn’t a perfect swirl but it was easy enough to see if you were looking for it. In fact, now that he _was_ looking, Jon spotted several more places where the three colors met and formed a crude spiral. “That... hmm, yes it does. Georgie, be careful around her claws. I would imagine them to be rather sharp.”

 

* * *

 

Jon and Georgie were both in the living room relaxing, Jon reading a book and Georgie playing a game on her phone, when the sound of a door swinging open somewhere in the flat pulled them both from their respective activities. Jon’s wide eyes met with Georgie’s almost bored expression.

“Is that your Michael then?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jon unfolded himself from the couch to investigate the source of the noise. A flash of orange darted through the room, coming to a halt in front of him.

“Mew!” Her eyes were bright and her tail twitched with youthful energy.

“Huh, Michael mentioned she was good with doors.”

“That _is_ impressive.” Georgie nodded in Callie’s direction. “I’ve known cats that open doors with lever handles but I’ve never met one that could open a door with a round knob.”

“I guess I’ll need to get more creative with-- _ahhh! Ow!”_

Callie pounced his leg and began climbing Jon like a tree. She was already halfway up the leg of his trousers and moving fast. Jon frantically grabbed for the kitten before she could dig her needle claws into any more of his delicate flesh. He managed to dislodge her but at the cost of several scratches to his hands.

Georgie swooped in to rescue Jon from the, now cranky, ball of fur and, apparently, claws like knives. “Okay, sweetie. You want to climb something? I’ve got just the thing, let’s go.” She expertly pinned Callie’s paws and walked her off toward the spare room. “Get yourself cleaned up, Jon. I’m pretty sure you know where the first aid kit is by now.”

Jon stopped sucking at the scratches on his hand long enough to huff out a dry laugh at Georgie’s jab. “That I do.”

He pulled the hem of his trousers above his knee and winced at the state of things. The wounds were small but they felt deep. He made sure to wash everything thoroughly and apply antibiotic cream before adhering the plasters.

Giggling from the hall pulled Jon’s attention from his work. Georgie was leaning against the door jam with a smile on her face. “What is so funny?” he asked.

She eyed the bandages on his legs and snickered again. “You remind me of the first time I shaved my legs. I used a disposable razor and managed to nick myself all over with the damn thing.”

“Well I’m glad I can be a continued source of amusement for you,” he said dryly.

“She didn’t bite you did she?”

“No, I don’t think so. Why?”

“Cat bites can get pretty nasty, you can get a serious infection, like amputation level serious. If you’ve been bitten we really should go to A&E for them to have a look.”

“No, I’m fine, pretty sure it was just claws. Very sharp, rather long claws, but just claws.”

“Okay, if you say so.” She seemed dubious but willing to let the matter drop. “I have nail clippers if you’d like to give that a go.”

“Do you think we can get her to hold still long enough?”

“Have you never heard of a purrito, Jon? You grab a towel and I’ll get the cat.”

 

* * *

 

 

Callie napped in a patch of sunlight on the floor as Jon assembled the scratching post he had ordered online. She had been cleared by the vet days ago and was now allowed to roam the flat and interact with the Admiral. The damage Callie had done to the furniture was minimal, so far at least. Jon wanted to get ahead of things before it became a real problem.

Once it was assembled, Jon crouched down to rub catnip into the rough scratching surface. The instructions said it should encourage cats to use it over other places they had been scratching. Georgie had given Callie a pinch of catnip earlier and had been delighted at the reaction. Apparently it never affected the Admiral.

Her eyes still closed, Callie’s ears swiveled toward Jon. A half second later she was fully awake and bounding at him. No, wait, bounding past him. “Now where are you headed off too in such a hurry?”

“Hello, little one, I missed you too.”

Jon yelped in surprise at the voice next to his ear. From the sound of it, Michael must have been standing directly over him, so close it was nearly touching him. Startled, Jon lurched away, overbalancing and losing his grip on the still open bag of catnip.

Time slowed to a crawl as Jon fell backward. He felt the bag leave his hand as it began its journey upward. He watched as the dried herb came free of its container in a perfect arc. That perfect arc distorted as it landed on Michael’s chest. Michael did not so much as blink when the green specs made contact with its face.

Time resumed its normal speed as the Archivist’s backside made contact with the floor, hard. “Oh, god,” he breathed, scrambling backward.

Callie had managed to scale Michael to find purchase on its head. The Distortion stood perfectly still, its face frozen in a too wide smile.

In the throes of a catnip high, Callie trilled and began frantically rubbing her face in Michael’s curly locks. If it weren’t for her, and the dark green specks floating through the air, Jon would have sworn time had actually stopped.

“Oh, god,” he whispered again, still backing away. “Michael, I-I-I’m sorry. I didn’t--you startled me, I-- _argh!”_   Jon rubbed his head where he had cracked it on the edge of the end table in his flight from the frozen monster.

Michael still wasn't moving but Jon could almost swear its pupils had dilated.

“Um… Michael?” Jon climbed slowly to his feet. “Michael? Are you alright?”

Jon was frozen in place. Fear for his own well being screamed at him to run, run and never look back at this thing that could shred him with barely a thought. He wanted desperately to give in to that fear, but the Archivist wouldn’t let him. It saw something new, something to be observed, something that might be useful in the future. Against his better judgement, Jon stepped forward.

Callie was contentedly kneading Michael’s scalp. Just watching her paws work made Jon’s head tingle, knowing how sharp her claws were. Michael’s pupils were as wide as dinner plates and it _still_ hadn’t moved. The Archivist chewed on his lower lip, considering the best course of action.

_Seems like catnip has some kind of effect on Michael. That could come in handy later._

The Archivist took another hesitant step forward, drinking in as many details as he could from the situation.

 _How does a being that experiences time and space so differently even_ get _high? Let alone off_ catnip!

“Michael?” Still no response, does he wait? Jon was thankful Georgie wasn’t home. He didn’t want to think of what she might do in this situation.

Well, if Michael is in the flat, one of its doors is probably around here somewhere. Might as well go and find it. If it comes down to it, he might have to drag Michael through the damn thing.

A realization crept over the Archivist: looking at Michael in this state didn’t make his head hurt. Something about its proportions seemed a bit off, yes but nothing that made his mind recoil like it usually does. It was the most normal, most _human_ Michael had ever looked.

_Huh, I wonder what would happen if it spoke. Would the sound all originate from the same source? It would be nice not to end an encounter with bleeding ears._

Jon crept away from Michael’s still form with the care of someone moving through a pride of sleeping lions. At the end of the hall, Michael's door was where he expected it to be, right where it was the last time. Something was very wrong with it, or at least wrong in a completely different way than usual. The damn thing had static on it. Actual, goddamn static was moving across the door’s wooden surface.

“Archivist.”

 _“Gah!”_ Jon spun around to stand nose to nose with a confused looking Michael. “Michael… uh, how are you?” Jon noticed Michael’s usually bright eyes were still unfocused.

“What _was_ that substance?” It asked with a hint of wonder.

Jon took a step back but fought the urge to keep going, its door wasn’t far behind. “Oh, that? That was catnip. It, ah… some cats find it to be a, um… pleasant sensation.”

“Hmmmm, pleasant... ” Michael flicked out its tongue, catching several of the bits of catnip still on its face, “I suppose that is a _word_. Not the right word, but a word”

“Thrrrrreooow.” Callie trilled from atop Michael’s head, demanding attention. It reached up to scratch the kitten serving as an impromptu hat.

“Is that something you enjoy, little one?”

“Mew!”

“Hmmmm.” It cooly appraised Jonathan as it stroked the cat. The whole scenario would have been a perfect villain moment had the cat not been atop Michael's head. “Archivist, it seems you have performed an _adequate_ job of the given task.”

It plucked Callie from her perch and placed her on the ground. She mewed again as she meandered toward Michael’s, now stable, door, pausing to rub against Jon’s leg as she went. The tiny calico disappeared through the cat flap without hesitation.

He let out a sigh of relief. The Admiral bumped against his leg and Jon reached down distractedly to pet him, wanting to make sure he didn’t follow Callie through Michael’s door. The hair Jon encountered was not the sleek fur of the Admiral but the Distortion’s yellow curls. The thing disguised as a man lay prone on the floor of Georgie’s flat, rolling in the bits of catnip that had fallen there.

“This is _very_ nice, Archivist. I like this… cat… nip.”

Pulling his hand back and wiping it on his shirt, Jon let out a nervous laugh. “I’m, uh, glad to hear that. So… are you going to leave now?”

“Leeeeavvvvvee? Naaaoooowww?” It practically crooned. 

“Yes, leave. Now. Are you going to go away? Please?”

Michael continued to drape itself along the floor, grinding catnip into its hair. “I suppose…”

Jon was really reaching the end of his rope. “Anytime soon?” he prompted.

“Time… exists.”

“Yes, we’ve been over that.”

Michael laughed its long, undulating laugh and continued to rub its face into the carpet.

“Right, well, in that case,” Jon firmly grabbed Michael’s arm. He waited briefly in case Michael reacted but it seemed not to care. “Fuck it, I’ll do it myself.”

He pulled Michael across the floor to right in front of the door. Judging by the hinges, the door opened out. Jon took care to stay behind it as he gingerly opened the door, propping it open with a large potted plant.

“In you go.” Jon pushed Michael as close to the edge of what was, essentially an inter-dimensional portal, as he dared.

Grabbing one of the catnip toys Georgie bought for Callie, Jon squeezed it a few times to release the aroma then tossed it through the door. After a few tense moments, Michael languidly crawled in after it. Jon kicked the plant out of the way and shut the door in a rush. He leaned up against it, breathing a sigh of relief as he slid to the floor, blocking the cat flap.   

He stayed there until Georgie found him, asleep against the wall, with the Admiral curled in his lap. The only doors in her flat were the ones that belonged there.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why but I really like the idea of Michael stoned out of its mind on catnip.


End file.
